


Break On Me

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: Post "Consumed"
Relationships: Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Break On Me

“Well that went well,” she scoffs sarcastically of their mission, marching unsteadily down the dirt and grass pathway, her ankles buckling beneath her on this rough terrain she is trying to cross in high heels and a dress. 

“Those people didn’t know squat,” he complains alongside her, trudging up the pathway in dress shoes and a full suit and tie. 

“At least they aren’t real cannibals,” she reminds him, bumping into his shoulder as she walks, doing this on purpose to be playful. 

“Yeah,” he admits their good fortune at being spared as meat tonight. 

He can’t help but steal a glance at her, how quick of a pace she walks, proving she can keep up with him in her heels and her tight dress, the dress with a zipper in the front instead of the back. That glance lasts longer than he intended to and she notices. 

“See something you like?” she teases him. 

“No,” he says quickly, looking away, trying not to seem like he was ogling her “I mean yeah, I mean, I think we should uh, not waste this evening.”

She stops walking and stares at him, asking “Oh yeah?” with a raised eyebrow “what did you have in mind?” 

Nick steals a glance at the red and blue lights up the pathway ahead, parked on the street, ready to take them back to the lab now that their cover was blown and the persons of interest at the party had been processed and released. 

“Lets go have dinner,” he suggests “we’re already dressed up, we don’t have to deal with these whackos until tomorrow, we deserve some time together, and no one will question it because we were already set to be together tonight.” 

She bites her lip, thinking it over, stepping closer to him, reaching for his tie, touching the fabric and using it to pull him closer to her. 

“That sounds great,” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his, smirking in delight “and later you can help me out of this dress, it’s kind of a pain to get out of.”

“I think we will manage,” he flirts back, feeling safe to do so in this dark setting where no one could see. 

She giggles when he squeezes her side, grabbing his hand to hold briefly before continuing on the pathway back to the squad cars. 

The shot cracked across the night air like a whip. She jumped, feeling her breath catch in her chest at the unexpected noise. They barely had time to steal worried glances at each other when another shot echoed nearby, much closer than the first. 

“That can’t be good,” she breathes to him in a panic. 

The squad car looms up ahead as they get closer to it, hoping someone inside was hearing this racket and trying to locate the source. They were feet away from the concrete pathway when a third shot zipped across the sky above them, sounding even closer than the rest. She pushed him to the side, fearing the bullet's path would head straight for them. The act of pushing him sent her tumbling to the ground, her ankles giving out on her, a searing pain radiating from her right knee, all the way up her leg as she made contact with the cement. 

“Ow, save that roughness for the softball game next week,” he teased her, rubbing his shoulder where she had shoved him. 

“Sorry,” she apologized for the overreaction as she made a move to stand up. 

Her own strangled cry startled her as an intense pain shot through her knee again. 

“What?” he asked worriedly now. 

“I think I smashed my knee when I fell,” she complains, reaching down to touch it with her hand, causing more pain to shoot up her leg and she gasps in shock. When she withdraws her hand, she feels something damp, she thinks it’s just mud or dirt or water at first, until a beacon of light from the police car reveals a bright red stain on her fingers. 

He sees it too and gapes at her in shock. He fumbles in his suit pocket for his cell phone, using the light from it to shine across her leg which she's stuck out in front of him, swaying unsteadily on the other leg. When the cell phone light crosses her leg, the blue tint mixes with the red blotchy spot that used to be her right knee but now looks mangled and torn, throbbing in pain as adrenaline kicks in. Just below it are the scuff marks from when she landed on the cement, meaning this wound is not from her fall. 

“Nick,” she breathes in a panic, struggling to balance on one foot, arms swaying beside her. 

“Easy,” he warns her, stuffing his cell phone back into his pocket as he walks behind her now. 

“Come on,” he encourages, bracing her back with one arm and starting to lift her into his arms with the other. When he tucks his arm behind her knees, she whimpers, feeling more pain radiate across her leg. He tries to be careful, but as he lifts her into his arms, her knees bend and she yelps in agony, the pain too intense. She arches her back and tries to get out of his embrace but he’s already started walking with her up the pathway and to the police car. 

“Relax,” he tries to calm her but she’s too distracted by the pain in her knee, the blood, the way her heart is pounding in her chest, her own strangled cries unfamiliar to him in this heightened sense of awareness, fear, panic, pure agony from what has just occurred. 

All the while she tries to twist herself out of his hold, the act of bending her knee overwhelms her with pain. She howls when he reaches the officer waiting for them. He stares at them in total confusion until it sinks in; the blood, the way he’s carrying her, the shots from moments ago. Nick lowers her into the back of the squad car, much to her dismay and agony as she cries, reaching with her hands to grab at her leg, squeezing her thigh, hoping to siphon the pain to another spot. But that fails, her breath is hitched and unsteady as they ride to the hospital, the officer blaring his lights and siren. 

“It’s okay,” Nick tries to soothe her as she arches uncomfortably, head hitting the back of the seat, struggling to sit still, shaking. 

He forced himself to look at her mangled leg, hoping it’s just a graze, praying for her sake and misery that no fragments need to be removed. He feels his own hands shake with the rush of adrenaline from carrying her, from hearing the shots, from how it could have been him. But it wasn’t. She made sure of that. She pushed him, not even knowing what or who she was protecting him from. In her moments of agony right now, he was feeling a burning hot sense of guilt in his chest. Men protect their women, the old chivalrous thought came to him, but she was strong enough for both of them right? She certainly appeared that way most days and now he was forced to remind himself that they were just human, and she was as fragile as anyone. Seeing her break in his arms was not something he was used to and he mentally kicked himself for assuming her strength and resilience required no further emotional adjustment on his part. 

She refused to move from the back seat of the police car when they finally arrived at the hospital. She didn’t want him to carry her again, fearing intense pain. Instead, she scooted herself to the open door, gripping the metal frame with white knuckles, lifting herself out, her strangled cry echoing horribly in his ears. He reached out to catch her, fearing a fall was imminent but she wobbled up to the curb, collapsing on the stretcher the medics had brought for her, whimpering when they shifted her legs. Every nerve was on fire yet she could not stop shivering as they got her settled into a trauma area of the emergency room. Swarms of nurses and doctors descended on her right leg, shouting about stats and blood work and x-rays, shouting at Nick for answers regarding what happened. He was slowly pushed back out of the room by these circling nurses, his eyes meeting Finn’s who saw him leaving and stretched an arm out in protest. 

“She needs me,” he protested, finding his voice again after being silent for so long. 

“Let us treat her first,” the nurse assured him she was in good hands but he could not stop craning his neck to see past them and into her room. 

The entire process was an assault on her senses. From poking and prodding at her leg, making her do silly things like wiggle her toes and test her reflexes, using some portable contraption to see past the blood and tissue and bone for any bullet fragments. The look on the doctor's face as he read over the x rays told her all she needed to know and she could not stifle her cry in protest. 

She searched around frantically for Nick as they started prepping a kit with various tools and gauze and bandages. She feared the impending pain that was about to overwhelm her body, squirming uncomfortably on the bed, shivering, looking pale against the bright white sheets on the bed, weakened by the loss of blood. A nurse noticed her shivering and gave her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders but nothing could be done to warm up her legs as she was still trapped in this awful dress, unable to be rid of it until her leg was properly tended to. In hindsight it was probably a blessing to have been shot while dressed this way, making for an easier clean up but her mind was racing too fast to settle on a coherent thought for more than a few seconds without being overcome by sharp shooting pain. 

A warm hand touches her arm and she jumps, startled but relieved when she sees it’s Nick. She twists her body, wanting to be closer to him, hurting her back and leg in the process. He leans on the side of the bed she occupied, sweeping her disheveled hair out of her face, searching her eyes for a familiar gaze but only finding one of pain and misery. She tries to speak and tell him something but he soothes her with a soft “I know it hurts' ' promising her “it’s almost over' ' knowing that she will likely be in pain for several days if not weeks. As he continues to smooth her hair back, thumb grazing her forehead repeatedly, she realizes why he’s suddenly here after they so forcibly pushed him out; they want him to keep her still while they remove the bullet fragments from her shattered knee. She whines in understanding of what they are going to do, squeezing her eyes shut and bracing her hands on the metal railing of the bed. She doesn’t feel the needle poke to numb her already aching leg but slowly she starts to feel just a pressure on her leg. She opens her eyes to steal a glance at the person working on her tender flesh and bones but Nick holds her face and guides her gaze back to him. 

“Don’t look at it,” he encourages, knowing she would likely be sick or worse if she saw what they were doing. 

She cringes and winces at the feel of her leg being shifted around. After a few bizarre minutes of feeling but not feeling things, she feels a hand lift her leg to bend and she arches again, a heartbreaking whimper escaping her as she twists to the side, crashing forward, meeting Nick halfway as he sat up to bring her closer to him. She pushes her head against his chest and sobs. 

She takes in air one hitched breath at a time until she feels him pat her back and say “They’re done babe,” and she looks down, teary eyed at her leg which is now bandaged all the way around her knee. She’s still trembling, pumped on adrenaline and now, painkillers are making her numb. Her head feels foggy as she pierces Nick with a sad gaze and begs “Take me home”

“Soon,” he promises again, in that soft tone, that one that makes her melt, one she was looking forward to hearing tonight when they were in bed after this undercover mission. Now she would not have the strength for anything for days. Facing that and the prospect of no softball, she felt an ache of discouragement in her chest. 

They allow her to rest for a few minutes, monitoring her vitals, seeing her heart rate return to normal as the painkillers take effect. Her gaze becomes heavy, her eyes droop but she keeps her hand raised, propped up on her elbow for Nick to hold and kiss her fingers, the only comfort he can give her right now. 

“I’m sorry I ruined the date night,” she stammers, groggy to him. 

“You took a bullet for me sweetness,” he reminds her of her heroic act in pushing him aside “you saved me.” 

She squints, confused but he sweeps her hair back again to kiss her forehead, thinking of how she saved him in more than one way and more than just tonight. 

“No more,” she says now and he thinks she is protesting the kisses.

“No more what darling?” he asks gently, being cautious of her drug induced state. 

“You, getting hurt,” she says now, clumsily touching his cheek with the back of her hand “I won’t let you be hurt ever again.” 

He cannot hide the smile that breaks across his face, of how far she’s willing to go for him, how she didn’t even hesitate, she reacted on instinct and love. He doesn’t want to break her heart that she will unfortunately be unlikely to keep him from getting hurt on the job in the future but in the moment, the sentiment runs deep into his soul and stabs at his heart, causing tears to sting at his eyes. 

“I love you for that,” he accepts her love and fierce desire to protect him, pressing a kiss to her temple, pulling away in time to see her dopey grin of joy in this moment. 

Getting her home with a busted up knee wrapped in bandages with a kit for helping change them for the next few weeks was not how they envisioned this night. Nevertheless, he puts her to bed, having indeed helped her out of that dress just not in the fun way they had planned. The pain in her knee is too intense to allow her to sleep on her right side nor her left which frustrates her until he supplies her with two pillows to prop her knee up and prevent it from hitting her other knee while laying on her side. 

When he closes his eyes, he sees flashes of the night's events behind them. He wishes to go back to that moment and flirt with her in the dark a little longer to spare them time before the frightening moments when the gun went off. He wishes he would have been walking on her side and taken that bullet instead. She whimpers quietly in her sleep and he opens his eyes to make sure she's okay. Her hands rest gingerly in front of her and her fingers twitch in his direction. He is careful to lift his arm and scoot closer to her, being careful not to nudge her leg with his by mistake. When his hand comes to rest on her shoulder, arm tucked around her body, she trembles but uses what little strength she has to snuggle comfortably against him. He sees her leg twitch involuntarily under the blankets, no doubt still plagued with pain and feelings of being worked on by the doctors. He recalls those feelings and twitches when he was recovering and sleeping here alone. In some way, he’s jealous that she has someone to help her in her recovery while he suffered alone. But that selfish thought dissipates when she sighs beautifully in her sleep and nestles her head closer to him. 

A life full of risk with no reward was brutal and wore heavily on his soul. A life of quiet solitude was no fun either. He would like to think he found a happy medium with her. His suspicions were confirmed when he brushed his thumb against her cheek, wiping away leftover tear tracks that had cascaded down her soft skin, only to have her reach her hand up and hold his wrist, moving his hand to the top of her head where she wanted comfort instead. The pain in his chest reached a critical point of pure adoration for her and all she had done for him and he knew, this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah the medical jargon and procedures are likely incorrect but I wanted to focus on the pain and suffering aspect and the delirium in the moment for Finn who likely wouldn't give a damn about an X-Ray versus an MRI and such. But I did do research for bullet fragments in the skin so point for me for looking at those images off Google and cringing.


End file.
